Autumn at the Star and Sixpence (3 page)

‘What?’ Nessie said, still distracted. ‘Oh . . . no, not really.’

Ruby pounced like a tiger. ‘Details? Are you and your friend planning a school reunion?’

Sam took a deep breath. ‘Not exactly. I know I said Nessie was out with an old friend. In actual fact she was out with her ex-husband.’

Patrick appeared in the doorway. ‘Not quite, Sam.’ He strode forwards, holding out a hand to Owen. ‘Hi, I’m Patrick. Nessie’s
husband
.’

Owen blinked at the emphasis on the final word. He took Patrick’s outstretched hand almost automatically and his eyes strayed to Nessie’s. ‘Owen Rhys. I’m—’
He paused for a heartbeat and an unspoken communication seemed to pass between them. ‘I’m her next-door neighbour.’

Nessie woke up with her alarm at six o’clock and lay for a moment staring at the cracked ceiling above her bed. This time yesterday, everything had been fine. Not
perfect, but moving in the right direction. Then Patrick had arrived and shaken everything up like leaves in a gale, and she wasn’t at all sure life would settle back down exactly the way it
had been before.

Her thoughts flew back to last night and she covered her gritty eyes with a groan. She’d thought her heart would stop when she’d walked into the bar and found Owen sitting there. Sam
had done her best to rescue the situation, but Nessie had known the moment Patrick introduced himself that the damage had been done: Owen had drained his pint and made his excuses not long after.
Nessie had watched him go, her heart heavy with anxiety, and longed to follow him to explain, but she couldn’t. Not with Patrick watching. So she’d spent a restless night worrying,
listening to the howling wind with Sam’s whispered goodnight warning bouncing around her brain:
Tell Patrick tomorrow or I will
.

With a broken sigh, Nessie pushed back the covers and pulled on her dressing gown. Patrick was asleep in the living room; she could hear his snores through the door. With a bit of luck the
amount of Thirsty Bishop he’d drunk would mean he’d sleep through her breakfast preparations for the guests upstairs. But he wouldn’t sleep forever; she’d have to face him
sometime and set things straight between them. She needed to speak to Owen too, and explain that it wasn’t what it looked like, that Patrick wasn’t back in her life the way he’d
insinuated he was.

But before any of that, she thought as she padded along the landing to the kitchen, she needed to bake some bread.

She knocked on the door of Snowdrop Cottage just after eight-thirty. The wind and rain had died down, leaving the air smelling clean and fresh but Nessie thought she detected a
smoky hint of autumn as she crossed the yard in front of the forge. It took a moment for the door to open and when it did, it wasn’t Owen peering out at her but his sister, Kathryn. Her dark
curls, so like Owen’s, were uncharacteristically messy, suggesting she’d just got up.

‘Morning, Nessie,’ she said, her Welsh lilt lifting into a half-covered yawn. ‘You’re up and about early for a Sunday. Do you need to borrow something?’

Nessie shook her head. ‘I came to see Owen. Is he around?’

‘No, he’s taken Luke to football,’ Kathryn said, with a sympathetic grimace. ‘Won’t be back for about an hour.’

Nessie felt her shoulders sag. She should have known Owen would have taken his son to football – he did it every Sunday morning. But her mind had been so full of jumbled thoughts that
she’d forgotten. She gnawed at her lip; she didn’t want to go back to the pub, not when there was every chance Patrick would be awake. She wanted to see Owen first, to give her the
strength to tell Patrick it was over. But it didn’t seem as though luck was on her side.

‘Why don’t you come in and wait,’ Kathryn said, as though reading her mind. ‘We can have a cuppa and a gossip.’

Nessie frowned. ‘But you’ve just got up.’

‘It’s no bother,’ Kathryn replied. She pulled the door back further. ‘I’ve got some of Martha’s triple chocolate chip cookies.’

Nessie smiled. ‘You know me too well.’

It wasn’t until she was sitting in Kathryn’s cosy kitchen, sipping a cup of steaming hot tea, that it occurred to Nessie to wonder whether Owen had told his sister about last night.
She didn’t think so – Kathryn was famous for her bluntness. She would have brought the subject up the moment Nessie was through the front door if she’d known.

‘How are things with you?’ she asked.

Kathryn cupped her hands around her tea and sighed. ‘Okay, I suppose. Band rehearsals are the usual mess of egos and artistic disagreements, but what can you expect with a bunch of
musicians?’ She pulled her mouth into a wry smile. ‘I sometimes think I’m the only sane one among them.’

Nessie smiled too; Kathryn’s band, Sonic Folk, covered an eclectic mix of music and they didn’t always see eye to eye on which tunes suited their style. She’d seen them play a
number of times and they’d never failed to impress her, but she knew from Kathryn that there was a lot of tension beneath the energetic, polished performances. ‘Oh?’

‘Bookings are up, which is great,’ Kathryn said. ‘Or it would be if they weren’t scattered all over the country. Some of us have responsibilities. We can’t just set
off to Edinburgh at a moment’s notice.’

Nessie shifted uneasily. There was a faint whisper of resentment behind Kathryn’s words, something she’d never heard before. She knew Kathryn had sacrificed a lot to help her brother
care for Luke after Eliza’s death. Could it be that she was starting to feel tied down by Owen and Luke? She was only in her early thirties, after all; could she perhaps be wondering when she
might get to lead her own life?

‘Have you spoken to Owen about this?’ she asked.

Kathryn shrugged. ‘You know my brother. He’d tell me to go and then forget to pick Luke up from school at the end of the day.’

Nessie laughed. ‘I think he’s got more sense than that.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Kathryn admitted. ‘But he’d still struggle if I wasn’t around to help. I’m not sure they’d eat, for a start.’

Nessie thought back to when Alyssa Di Campo, the chef, had visited the Star and Sixpence back in February, to cook for their pop-up romantic restaurant. It had gone better than either Sam or
Nessie had dared to hope but Nessie remembered Owen had been pretty handy in the kitchen. She doubted he and Luke would starve if Kathryn spent some time away. And if it turned out they
couldn’t cope there’d be no shortage of volunteers to help out: Owen was considered a hot property by many of the village women and Nessie knew several who would leap at the chance to
offer some TLC.

‘They’d be fine,’ she said to Kathryn. ‘Honestly, take a bit of time for yourself. You’ve earned it.’

Kathryn looked unconvinced. ‘I dunno . . .’

‘At least talk to him about it,’ Nessie urged. She smiled. ‘You never know, he might be as keen to fly solo as you are.’

‘But what if I decided to make it . . . a more permanent arrangement?’

Nessie stared at her. ‘You mean move out?’

Kathryn’s gaze slid away. ‘Perhaps. I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Maybe I just need a bit of space. Or maybe I’m just in an odd mood – autumn does that to
me sometimes. The change of the season, all the trees losing their leaves, it makes me a bit restless.’

Nessie nodded. The change from summer to autumn was probably the most dramatic of the seasonal shifts – as well as the visual signs, the air seemed different too, rich and smouldering with
the scent of delicately spiced wood smoke even when there was no fire for miles. Unlike Kathryn, it didn’t make Nessie feel restless. It made her want to reach for warm woollen jumpers and
snuggle beside the fire with a good book and a never-ending mug of hot chocolate. ‘Talk to Owen,’ she said again gently. ‘He’ll understand.’

The other woman nodded, then pushed the plate of cookies towards Nessie. ‘We’d better eat these before Luke gets back. You know he can detect chocolate from two villages
away.’

The conversation moved on to the latest village gossip: confirmed spinster Franny Forster was rumoured to be thinking about moving in with Henry Fitzsimmons, something Nessie would never have
predicted when she’d first met her. As well as running the village Post Office with an iron fist, Franny was the chairwoman of the Little Monkham Preservation Society, a role she took very
seriously – any potential stain on the reputation of the village was treated as a personal insult. Sam had once observed that Franny was as upright as the church steeple and about as
flexible, although she’d definitely mellowed recently and it was widely agreed that the change was down to Henry. His gentlemanly courtship had allowed Franny’s softer side to come to
the fore; she’d even confided her scandalous secret past to Sam in the summer, when the Will Pargeter business had been at its worst. Even so, no one had expected her to move in with Henry.
Tongues were definitely wagging.

‘Good on her, I say,’ Kathryn said. ‘It just goes to show that it’s never too late.’

There was a rumble outside as Owen’s battered old Land Rover swept into the yard. Nessie heard Luke chattering at the back door, then he tumbled inside, his freckled face rosy beneath his
mop of untidy blond hair. ‘I scored three goals,’ he announced proudly. ‘It would have been four except Robbie Henderson fouled me just as I was about to shoot. Dad said
he’s a filthy little—’

‘Never mind what I said,’ Owen cut in, laughing. His dark eyes came to rest on Nessie. ‘Good morning.’

All of Nessie’s mortification about the night before came rushing back. She did her best to smile but it was a weak effort. ‘Good morning. Kathryn and I were just having a
gossip.’

Luke’s eyes lit up when he saw the crumb-covered plate. ‘You’ve had triple chocolate chip cookies! Did you save one for me?’

Kathryn mock-frowned. ‘Maybe.’ She eyed his mud-caked knees and grubby football kit. ‘But you’re not getting anything until you’ve had a shower.’

She chivvied him towards the kitchen door. ‘Thanks for the advice, Nessie,’ she called over one shoulder as Luke thundered up the stairs. ‘Much appreciated.’

Luke’s chatter faded away to a dull murmur, leaving a heavy silence behind. Nessie cleared her throat nervously. ‘I think I owe you an explanation.’

Owen shook his head. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’

‘I do,’ Nessie insisted. ‘And it really isn’t what you think. Patrick is . . . he isn’t . . . oh God, I don’t know. It’s complicated.’

There was a loud thud overhead, followed by a squawk from Luke and a cross-sounding mutter from Kathryn. Owen frowned. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

The village green was sparkling with dew, its grass an even deeper emerald than usual. Nessie felt dampness seep through her canvas shoes but the discomfort was nothing compared to the knot of
anxiety twisting through her stomach. She cleared her throat again and fixed her gaze on the distant war memorial.

‘I had no idea Patrick was coming,’ she said. ‘He turned up yesterday out of the blue, saying he wanted to talk. And since I couldn’t really refuse, it seemed better if
we did it away from the pub and the prying eyes of the village.’

A smiled flickered across Owen’s features. ‘Sounds sensible to me.’

‘There’s nothing going on between us,’ Nessie said in a rush, feeling her cheeks start to burn. ‘Between me and Patrick, I mean. We’re still getting
divorced.’

Owen was quiet for a moment. ‘You might think so but it’s not the impression I got from Patrick last night. He went out of his way to let me know you were still his wife.’

Nessie felt another wave of embarrassment wash over her. ‘I have no idea what’s got into him. Honestly, during the last few years we were together I don’t think he noticed I
was even there, as long as his dinner was on the table. And now he’s acting like we’re Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor.’

‘So he’s contesting the divorce?’

‘It’s too late for that,’ Nessie said. ‘He signed all the paperwork ages ago. No, I think he just wants to be sure it’s the right thing for both of us.’

Owen glanced sideways at her. ‘And how do you feel about that?’

Nessie kicked at a clump of grass, sending a tiny shower of dew across her already soaking foot. ‘Irritated, mostly. If he’d shown this much interest before I left maybe we’d
still be together. Sam wants me to send him packing. That’s what I was meant to do last night.’

Owen said nothing and Nessie felt a small stab of frustration. Impassioned declarations weren’t his style but he could show some emotion, give her a sign that he was bothered by the sudden
reappearance of her husband. An irrational desire to make him jealous surfaced in her mind. She pushed it away but the idea persisted. Maybe what Owen needed was a bit of competition, it whispered.
She shook her head – it was the kind of thing Sam might do.

‘But what if he means it?’ Owen said. ‘What if he does still love you? Would you ever consider going back to him?’

Nessie stopped walking to stare at him. He was being so bloody impartial, she thought in exasperation, so reasonable; like a good friend who had no interest either way. Which was all very well
but friendship wasn’t necessarily what she needed right now – not from him. A little bit of passion wouldn’t go amiss, the little voice murmured; something to show he felt more
for her than friendly concern. Nessie cast a sideways look at Owen. Maybe it
was
time to force his hand.

She took a deep breath. ‘He says he wants me back. And he’ll do anything to make that happen.’

The last sentence hung between them.
Come on
, Nessie willed him,
tell me not to listen to Patrick. Say you want me too
. But Owen’s gaze darkened and he stepped back. ‘I
won’t stand in your way. If you want to save your marriage then you should.’

His jaw tightened, as though he wanted to say more, but he checked himself and turned to walk away.

Nessie felt her stomach clench. ‘Owen, wait—’ she began but he didn’t stop.

Her shoulders slumped. Great – instead of invoking an impassioned response, she’d effectively told Owen she wanted to get back together with Patrick and he’d taken her at her
word. Could she have handled the situation any worse? She should run after him, explain that it wasn’t Patrick she wanted. But then she’d have to explain why she’d just suggested
that she did. No, the best way to deal with the whole situation was to set Patrick straight and send him back to Surrey. Then she could repair the damage with Owen and everything would be as it had
been.